


Reflections

by fisherman



Category: Pacific Rim
Genre: Angst, F/M, Right?, Sad, Vanessa deals with low self-confidence, but it gets better at the end i swear, everybody has bad days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1730012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fisherman/pseuds/fisherman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vanessa is usually strong, confident, and aware of her beauty.  Usually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflections

 

The gentle amber glow coming from the front door knob reflected a blurry Vanessa as she reached for it. Her long, slender fingers bent and twisted around it, wearily wrenching the door open.

Her heels clicked against the hardwood floors of her apartment. Her keys rang loudly in her ears and the door boomed as it slammed behind her. She hung her jacket up on the wall next to her, and ignored it when it fell off the hanger and onto the floor. She dragged herself to her room and sat, defeated, on her mattress. She pulled her long, thin legs up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. Her hair was smashed against her, scratching her face. Screwing her eyes shut tight, Vanessa begged for sleep to come and for the past couple of hours to disappear completely. She just wanted to sink into her plum colored comforter and be gobbled up forever.

There was a buzzing sound coming from her purse on the floor. Her eyes snapped open and she groaned. Leaning forward, she pulled her purse off the floor. She snatched her horn-rimmed glasses from the inside, and opened up her text messages.

 

_Vanessa,_

_I’m running late. Could we do 8:30 instead of 8?_

_My apologies,_

_Hermann_

She sighed and fell back onto the bed, rubbing her eyes. She had forgotten about her date with Hermann. At least he cared enough to check the time and update her. She chewed the inside of her cheek and texted him back.

 

_its k. c u @ 830_

And after sending the message, she sent a follow up.

 

_< 3 _

She smiled. Hermann was one of the last people she knew of that learned how to text. She had managed to teach him how, although he insisted on writing his texts the same way you would write a letter, punctuation and all. She knew it annoyed him when she would send back informal messages filled with chat speak and emojis (“You sent me chickens! That’s all the message was! Just a 10-centimeter wall of chickens! And then a smiley face! I don’t understand!”), but she enjoyed watching him fluster and squawk. That’s when she would go in for a kiss.

            Vanessa’s smile quickly disappeared. She lay back down, letting her arms flop down beside her. She tried to hold onto the memory of a frustrated Hermann being surprised by the touch of her lips, but it quickly faded away, only to be replaced by the terrible memory of the workday she’d had.   It drove a pit into her chest and constricted her heart, making her feel...not quite sad, not quite embarrassed, not quite disappointed.

            She sat up, and looked over at her reflection in her closet mirror.

 

            _You’re not beautiful._

The words resonated in her mind, sharp, cruel, and bitter. She kept looking at herself, searching for some glimmer of beauty, but any self-confidence she had, had been snuffed out. She slowly pulled her glasses off, and pushed her hair out of her face.

 

_Ugly. Worse._

She gulped. She tried to push the negative thoughts away, but they stuck in her head like fly paper. She felt tears start to prick at her eyes, and she took a large, rasping breath.

“No,” she said, standing up. “No. You are going on a date. You are putting on a smile. No crying tonight.” She jabbed a finger at the mirror, challenging her antagonistic reflection. But her reflection only stared back, looking as morose as she felt.

She pulled her shirt off and flung it to the other side of the room. She violently kicked her shoes off her fleet and they clattered loudly against the wall. She stepped into her bathroom and shimmied out of her pants and slipped off her underwear, kicking them both under the sink.

The showerhead gurgled and then shrieked as she turned the hot water on. She stepped into the shower, quickly regretting it as the scalding water hit her. She arched her back and yipped, quickly turning the water back down towards the blue streak near her dial.

For what seemed like hours, she let the water run over her. Her face was hidden in the canopy of her hair, keeping it relatively dry. She kept her eyes locked on the tub floor, watching the water swirl and disappear into the drain. She finally started to work a little bit of shampoo and conditioner into her hair. She figured she would do tight curls this evening, and put them all up on the top of her head using the head band Hermann had bought her when he was stationed in Lima.

_“You should straighten your hair more. It’s prettier that way and not as kinky.”_

Vanessa’s stomach lurched at the memory from so long ago. She remembered being sixteen, and had spent almost every day of secondary school with her frizzy, curly hair in tight bun. After encouragement from her friends, she finally took a chance, and her mother had woken up early on a Monday to help straighten her hair. It was painful and took three hours, but when she got to school, it was like she was a completely different person. And for a moment, it was fine: Vanessa even enjoyed the limelight and the praise for a bit. Until one friend gently laid a hand on her shoulder. She smiled -her long, silky blonde hair gently framing her face- and opened her mouth.

“You should straighten your hair more. It’s prettier that way and not as kinky.”

For the remainder of secondary school, Vanessa’s hair had stayed in its bun. Still curly. Still kinky. Still frizzy.

 

Vanessa stepped out of the shower, her hair sticking to shoulders and back. She tugged a towel from the wrack and wrapped it around her body. The fog on the bathroom mirror obscured her face, and when she went to go wipe it off, her reflection stared back again.

 

She frowned and glanced down at the sink. There was an old t-shirt she used to dry her hair hanging on the drawer handle beneath the sink. She bent over and wrapped her hair in it, scrunching her hair into curls with a claw-like grip.

_“Your hair’s too big and weird! I’m gonna tear it all off!”_

            Vanessa frowned. Her cousin had said that to her when they were both five. She had chased Vanessa around the house and yanked at her hair, making her cry. She hadn’t seen that cousin in seven years.

            Vanessa avoided eye contact with the mirror as she put product in her hair. Some coconut oil to smooth it, and then some mousse to gather and give some body to the curls. She tied the t-shirt around her head and went to go pick out an outfit.

            “Eeeeeeeeeeee, cold, cold, cold, cold!” She said, tip-toeing across the cold wooden floor, towards her closet. She reached for the closet door and yanked it open, but before she did, she saw her body; naked and raw, and still a bit wet from the shower.

           

            _Grotesque._

            Vanessa gulped again. Although the shower had woken her up, she suddenly felt weary again. She took a deep breath and plunged into her closet.

            “Nope. Nah. No, cheers,” she listed, going past outfits. She paused, and pulled out a dress. It was a long, flowing dress, with beautiful, warm, geometric patterns on it. It reminded her of her Dad’s side of the family, whom she had only seen once or twice in her life. She remembered wearing it on an outing with Hermann once too. He had gotten excited by the patterns in her dress and began to spit out mathematical formula’s, calculating the layout of the print on the fabric.

            _“What are you?”_

Ah, yes. That question. She had been asked in numerous job interviews. In line at the supermarket. On first dates. Minding her own business while riding the Underground. And every single time, without fail, it put knots in her stomach and a foul taste in her mouth. ‘I’m an alien sent to destroy your planet!’; ‘I’m Pallas Athena, ready to start the hunt!’; ‘I’m a mermaid that grew legs!’; ‘I am the night!’ She wanted to shout. Even more than that, she wanted to scream, “I’m a human being! Why do you care?”

            But she would usually look away from the stranger’s gaze, and quietly mumble, “My mum grew up in Essex and my dad is from Sudan.”

            She set the dress down on her bed, and reached into her underwear drawer, pulling out a pink pair of panties with a matching bubble-gummy bra. She slipped them on over her legs, and hooked the bra around her breasts. She dared to look in the mirror again.

            _“You should get implants if you want to_ survive _in this business.”_

            The photographer had taken a step back and inspected the photo’s he had just taken on his laptop.

            “Ya, definitely get some implants, sweetheart.” He added, and continued to click away with his camera. “No bloke’s going to be able to get off when you’re flat as a pancake.”

            “I’m sorry?” Asked Vanessa. She was standing on top of a pedestal, wearing some lacy, frilly underwear and posing under bright lights. “ And what business would that be? I thought I was a model selling underwear to women: not a porn star being subjected to the male libido.”

            The man had scowled and mumbled under his breath. She distinctly heard the words “no tits” and “bitch.” That was the last time Vanessa worked for that agency.

            Vanessa kept her eyes fixed on the mirror. She gently pressed her hands against her breasts.

            _“Mosquito bites.”_ Her mum had said when she was a teenager. She had smiled when she said it. She wasn’t being cruel or demeaning, only factual. Her mum’s breasts were only barely larger than her own.  

            She twisted her body, her eyes sliding down her shoulders and spine and landing at her bottom.

            _“I know your really self-conscious about your boobs, but, I mean, at least you have a fat-arse, right?”_

That’s what her first boyfriend had told her. He made an attempt to kiss her shortly after that. Her relationship with him ended quickly.

            Vanessa placed a hand on top of her bottom.

            _“Oi! Don’t be like that, it was a compliment!”_

            That’s what her second boyfr- well, he didn’t actually make it to that. She wasn’t completely sure about him. When he made an extremely handy grab at her bottom on a second date without any warning, this had only confirmed her initial doubts.

            Vanessa shook the memories away, and grabbed the dress off of her mattress. She dipped her toe through the opening in the top of the dress.

            _“You have really big feet! You look like a duck!”_

            That was a girl in her ballet class when she was 8. She pulled the dress up her legs.

            _“Oi, love! Let me wrap my hand ‘round your legs to see how thin they are!”_

            That was a man who yelled at her from a car when she was 16. She pulled the dress up around her hips.

            _“God, your hips are so bony! You could impale someone on them!”_

That was her ‘best friend’ from secondary school. She pulled the dress over her bottom.

            _“Sorry love, you’ve got a bum like daddy’s. You’ll grow into it someday.”_

            That was her father, after coming home from school where a boy had laughed and said that “she had a large, black-person bum.” She pulled the dress up to her waist.

            _“You look fabulous! Except for this bit of baby fat right here!”_

            That was an old, wrinkled, retired model, speaking through a cloud of cigarette smoke, as she probed Vanessa’s stomach, which could hardly be considered fat. She pulled the dress up her ribs.

            _“Oh my god, are you anorexic?! You look so good! You_ have _to tell me how you stay so skinny.”_

            That was her first-year college roommate, who had been taking her swimsuit shopping. Vanessa didn’t have an eating disorder, but what her roommate had said did compel her to throw up. She pulled the dress over her breasts.

            _“If I touch your breasts it won’t be sexual harassment- cause you don’t have any!”_

            That was an obnoxious bully that had plagued Vanessa during secondary school. His mates had laughed with him and she was able to wait until she found a bathroom to cry in. She pushed her arms through the sleeves.

_“You have, like, twig arms. And legs. And with your bushy hair, it makes you kind of look like a tree.”_

Some girl she barely new in school. She never bothered to learn Vanessa’s name and just called her “Twig” every time she saw her. Vanessa looked up into the mirror again.

 

            _Are you even trying?_

 

Vanessa exhaled and quickly moved into the bathroom. She pulled the t-shirt from her head, causing damp, collected curls to cascade down her back. She smiled at her reflection. Her reflection didn’t smile back.

            She dabbed a bit more mousse into her hair and then pulled open her make-up bag. She put some lotion on her legs.

            _“Your skin looks so ashy! Ha, don’t worry, I have a black friend back in the states, so I can say that!”_

            An American woman she had modeled with in Italy.

Vanessa grabbed some nail polish and put some bright orange paint on her nails. Then she pulled out some concealer and dabbed at the circles under her eyes and a few blemishes on her hairline.

            _“You can’t be one of us, your skin is too light!”_

            An aunt talking with her over dinner, when she visited Sudan a few years ago. Vanessa started spreading foundation onto her forehead.

            _“Aww, you are_ too _beautiful: you’re not even that dark!”_

            A modeling agent. Three weeks ago. Vanessa brushed on some bronzer, making her shimmer.

            _“Here! Put this make-up on, it will make your skin whiter. Also you’re going to need to wear colored contacts.”_

A Make-Up artist at her first big fashion show. Vanessa pulled out her war paints.

            _“You can’t be Hermione. You’re black.”_

            Vanessa didn’t even remember who said that. But it did ruin the midnight premier of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (part 2) for her. Vanessa looked into the mirror, her face perfectly matted and air-brushed.

 

            _You’re not good enough._

            Vanessa opened up a palette of eye shadows. She wondered if she should do mattes or glitter or…

 

            _What’s the point?_

 

            Vanessa ignored her reflection and picked out a dark blue eyeshadow. She took a wand and smeared the blue dust over one eyelid and then the other. Then she took some black, putting it in the crevice of her eyelid. Then she took a shimmering purple glitter and lightly dabbed it over the hood of her eye. She ran a dark blue eyeshadow pencil around her eyelids, and combed mascara generously through her eyelashes. She peered into her looking glass, inspecting her work.

            _“God, you look like a fucking clown. Maybe go easier on the eyeshadow next time?”_

            A girl at the beginning of prom. Her mother had reassured her that she was just a bully and extremely jealous of how beautiful Vanessa looked. When Vanessa had looked in the mirror that night black trails were running down her swollen red eyes and puffy cheeks, she didn’t quite believe her mothers words.

            Vanessa pulled out a tube of lipstick, inspecting the color like the blade of the knife.

            “Not you. Let’s tone it down a bit,” she sighed. Vanessa figured that with the orange dress and night-like eyes, the natural pink in her lips would do just fine. She pulled out a light lip-gloss and smeared it over her lips.

            _“Your lips are kinda gross. Like, no offensive, they’re just way too big.”_

            Third boyfriend. Good thing he never got to kiss them.

            She reached into a bin filled with hair clips and ties and pulled out a blue sash. It was plain, with a bit of golden and yellow thread woven through it. Digging her hand farther into the bin, she pulled out a handful of bobby pins. She meticulous pinned her hair up, until a crown of dark curls sat on top of her head. Keeping her eyes fixed on the cinnamon orbs staring back at her in the mirror, she tied the blue headband around her forehead.

            She walked back into her bedroom and –taking a deep breath- struck her most powerful pose in font the mirror.

           

            _Why do you even try?_

 

Vanessa trembled. She couldn’t take her eyes of the woman in the mirror.

 

            _You will never be good enough._

Tears stung her eyes again, and she clamped her teeth down on the inside of her cheek to keep them from escaping. She took a deep breath and flickered her eyes a bit. She managed to tear herself away from the mirror and slowly sat down on her mattress.

            For a while Vanessa kept her eyes fixed on her toes. She still needed to pick out a pair of shoes. The golden gladiator shoes she owned would do nicely.

            “No more high-heels today,” she muttered. She picked up her cell phone and purse and walked out of bedroom. The floorboards creaked as she made her way towards the door. There was a small mirror in her front hallway. As she opened her door, her eyes flickered over towards it.

 

            _Nobody wants to see you._

 

She pulled the door open and charged forward into the evening.

 

 

 

 

            Vanessa raised her arm and knocked on Hermann’s weather-beaten door. She waited and looked at his window, keeping an ear out for Hermann’s three-footed walk. She smiled, briefly, at the drawn, lacy-white curtains in his window. Hermann had always been one for privacy, but he always dwelled on ceremony.

 

            _He doesn’t love you._

           

            Vanessa was startled by her reflection, overlaying the lace, staring back at her.

           

            _He doesn’t think you’re smart; he doesn’t think you’re beautiful. You’re the only woman who’s ever given him a moment’s notice and that’s the only reason he stays with you._

_You’re just a big, ugly, joke._

There was a crack and a beam of light came pouring out of Hermann’s apartment as he wrenched the door open. His hair was parted and he wore a dark purple blazer. He even wore the bowtie Vanessa had gotten him a month ago: it was something that he wouldn’t normally wouldn’t dare to put on, unless if Vanessa thought it looked “smashing” on him. It was a black tie with a print of a galaxy on it.   Something that he was sure his lab partner would refer to as ‘hipster,’ whatever that meant.

            A large, beaming grin overtook his face, even with his large, magnifying eyeglasses dominating them.

            “Hello Vanessa! Wow, you look…Vanessa?”

            Hermann’s smile dropped from his face.  

            “Vanessa…Vanessa, darling what’s wrong?”

            Vanessa stood with her shoulder’s shaking, as tears slid down her cheeks. She cupped a hand to her mouth, trying to keep the sobs from escaping. She couldn’t bring herself to look Hermann in the eyes, but when she finally did, it only made her cry harder.

 

            _You’re so stupid you’re so ugly just go home you weak idiot girl stop crying on your boyfriends porch your lucky he’s still standing there dear god your just embarrassing yourself run home now you piece of shit you don’t deserve love you don’t deserve happiness you are not beautiful you never will be_

A sharp clatter broke Vanessa’s thoughts. Abandoning his cane on the ground, Hermann reached forward and pulled Vanessa into a hug. Her ragged sobs vibrated into his shoulder as he squeezed her tight, one hand stroking the back of her head.

            Vanessa reached her arms around his waist and clung to him. She tried to steady her breathe and control her sobbing, but every time she did, her face just grew hotter and the tears streamed faster.

            “Vanessa, what’s the matter?” Hermann asked, his brow broken with concern. He pulled out his handkerchief, and offered it to her. Vanessa took another sucking breath and wiped her nose across it. She refused to meet his gaze again.

            “It’s nothing,” she choked. “It’s stupid.”

            “It doesn’t sound like nothing,” he said, taking her hand. “And if it’s troubling you this much, it certainly can’t be stupid.”

            Vanessa gulped, overwhelmed with sorrow. She looked at Hermann -darling, sweet, dorky Hermann- and she felt fresh tears spring into her eyes.

            “I,” she paused, bringing the handkerchief to her mouth as she struggled to articulate her heartache. “I…look into the mirror, and I hate what I see.”

Hermann furrowed his brow.

            “I don’t feel beautiful. I can’t look in a mirror without feeling repulsed or remembering every shitty critique people have had of me.” Her body shook as she took another gasping sob. Hermann reach out and placed his arm on her shoulder.

            “I hate everything about me.” Vanessa’s body shook and she couldn’t contain her sobs or how loud her voice was getting.

“I hate my hair and my face and my body and my skin. I hate that I look in the mirror and I don’t love myself, even though everyone says I should.” Vanessa held the soggy, crumpled up handkerchief to her chest as she gasped for air.

            “I hate that I fell like everyone is lying to me when they tell me I’m pretty. I hate that I compare myself to every woman I see. I hate that I get put into a box because I’m mixed: that I’m ‘so beautful’ because I’m mixed or that I’m some ugly mutt or half-breed.

            “I hate that I can’t just love myself. I hate that I can’t just feel beautiful.”

            Vanessa kept her eyes locked on the cracked cement at her feet, watching little dots of stains bloom as her tears dropped from her chin. She watched as Hermann’s hand reached forward, grabbing her wrist. He gently tugged her forward, leading her into his house. They weaved through his hallways until they entered his study. He pushed away chalkboards from the wall, revealing a long, dusty full-length mirror. He turned, and went back to Vanessa. Gently, he stood behind her and pushed her towards the mirror.  

            Vanessa stood in front of the mirror, her reflection looking back at her: Her eyes, cheeks, and nose were puffy and swollen. The make-up she had so meticulously applied was now running down her face. Her lip trembled and she started to cry again.

            “Vanessa,” Hermann whispered softly from behind her. “Please tell me what see.”

            “I see myself,” she choked. Hermann ran his hands up and down her arms as she began to tremble again. She could see the reflection, who had been so cruel and malicious before, had nothing to say: it was weak and tired, it’s work was done.

            “At risk of sounded hypocritical or insensitive to your previous remarks,” began Hermann. “I won’t tell you you’re beautiful. But I will ask that you simply state it out loud, to yourself…please.”

            Vanessa looked into the mirror again. She took a deep breath, and as much as her mind rebelled against her, she opened her mouth.

            “I’m beautiful,” she whispered.

 

            _No you’re not._

“I’m beautiful. I’m…I’m desired.”

           

            _Shut up. No you’re not._

“I’m beautiful. I’m a model. People put me in magazines.” Her mouth twitched into a smile.

 

            _So? Stop. Remember that time in primary school when-_

            “I…I got through primary school, and secondary school, and college. And I grew everyday and I’m still growing. I grew into my beauty. I’m still growing into it. I get prettier everyday.” She said, challenging the mirror. She felt Hermann kiss her shoulder.

 

            _You’re still shit. You can put glitter and diamonds on shit, it’s still a piece of shit-_

 

           

            “No. I’m beautiful. I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful: I. Am. Beau. Tee. Full.” She screwed her eyes shut tight, and when she opened them, the reflection was still there. Her runny makeup was still there. The whites of her eyes were red and the front of her dress was stained with tears and snot. Some wispy hairs were spiraling from under her headband. She stared down her reflection.

 

            _No one loves you. You’re not beautiful._

 

            “I love me. I am beautiful.”

 

The room was quiet, save for the gentle tick of a clock on the wall. Hermann wrapped his arms around Vanessa, nuzzling his face against the back of her neck. Vanessa bent her neck down and kissed his knuckles. She looked back up into the mirror. Vanessa wiped a few tears away, and smiled at herself. The reflection smiled back.

           

 

            Their date night didn’t go as planned. A headache had bloomed into Vanessa head after her crying episode, so Hermann offered to walk her home.

            “Here,” he said, handing her a small dish. “I’ve been told that sorbet is the best cure for headaches.”

            “I don’t think that’s quite true, _Doctor_ Gottlieb, but I’ll take your word for it.” She accepted the sorbet and pulled his jacket tighter around her shoulders. She took a bite.

            “Mmm! Raspberry!” She beamed at Hermann, and he smiled back, but scowled when he couldn’t sufficiently jab his spoon into his sorbet.

            “Here.” Vanessa took a spoonful of sorbet and offered it to Hermann, who gingerly opend his mouth and excepted the treat.

            “Thanks,” he said through a mouthful of desert. They continued walking down the street, away from the ice cream parlor and past the street lights and loud cantina’s.

            “How’s your headache?” Asked Hermann. Vanessa shrugged.

            “S’dumb. Sorry that we didn’t go out this evening. I’m just kaput,” she took another bite of sorbet. “I was really looking forward to it.”

            “That’s quite alright. It seems like you had a lot of…toxicity within you that needed to get out.”

            “Ya, cheers for that. Sorry you had to endure my snotty blubbering.” She smiled at him.

            “If it’s all the same to you, I think you’re cute when you cry: you’re just this sad, cute little cupcake that I want to hug all the sadness away from.” Hermann held his cane in the air, like a fencer preparing for a bout. “Have at you, sadness! No tears today! You shall not attack my queen!” He jabbed the invisible foes in the air, until he tripped on his own feet and Vanessa had steadied him. There shared a moment of laughter, and sat down on a nearby bench.

            “Well, if it’s all the same to _you_ ,” mimicked Vanessa, “I think I did need to be sad. I needed to cry all those nasty feelings away. And I’m sure they’ll resurface again, but I think I’ll be able to handle it better next time. Just look in the mirror and have a stand off until I win.” She leaned over and rested her head on Hermann’s shoulder. She rested her hand on his lap and she felt his fingers lace with hers.

            “You are so very, very beautiful. I know you hear it a lot, but I just wanted to reiterate it.” Hermann ran his thumb over Vanessa knuckles. He listened to her as she sighed, acknowledging his praise.

            “Can I tell you about the time when I first realized just how beautiful you were?”

            Vanessa raised her eyebrows. Nobody had ever said something like that to her before.

            “I remember when we first started talking at school, when we had met in the library for a tutoring session. I remember seeing you, and I think I might have acknowledged that you were certainly _aesthetically pleasing_ but beautiful hadn’t quite occurred to me yet.”

            “Of course. We would trade off: you tutored me in mathematics while I helped you write art history essays.” Vanessa recalled. Hermann smiled at the memory.

            “And do you remember, when we had started hanging out, just as mates, and there was this big party on campus, and so many people insisted that you go, but instead you asked if you could come with me to see that meteor shower.”

            “Yes. I was hoping you’d think of it as a date and try to ask me out.”

            “Really?” Hermann asked, surprised. He huffed, embarrassed for a moment, and regained his composure. Vanessa laughed and tapped the tip of his nose.

            “Boop. You’re silly.”

            “Well, I suppose I was even oblivious at that point. Anyway…I remember sitting out on a blanket, as we waited for the shower. I remember you wore your bright pink sweater and a hat that looked like a strawberry. You had brought this large Harry Potter blanket that you said you had saved since you were eleven.”

            “It was cold that night,” murmured Vanessa, snuggling closer to Hermann. Hermann nodded, and put and arm around Vanessa.

            “And I remember when the shower started, how captivated you were. I was rambling on about the science and the math involved in the situation, but you just sat and watched as the meteors streaked across the sky. I even remember the way lights flickered across your eyes.

            “And I remember that… I was more captivated by you, than by the meteor shower. I couldn’t stop staring. I thought to myself, ‘A girl this special wants to willingly spend time with _me_.’ The way the stars illuminated you, wrapped up in your blanket cocoon with your hair springing out from under your hat, staring at the stars like you were seeing them for the first time: I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”

            “You are so beautiful Vanessa, in more ways than one. It’s only amplified but your love and intelligence, which is what makes you stand out from anyone else.”

            “Are you saying I’m exponentially beautiful?” Asked Vanessa.

            “To the nth power,” answered Hermann, hugging her close.

            Vanessa looked up into Hermann’s eyes, briefly seeing her reflection. She closed her eyes, leaned forward, and kissed him. Then she lay her head to rest of his chest, listening to his heartbeat, while he gently kissed her forehead. They stayed like this for a while, until the sky went from pink to dark blue, and until the stars revealed themselves in all their beauty.


End file.
